Every day and night its congress
On screens we would watch
Their lyrics of sweet poetry
With mask of sympathy glittering
At night they would were their wings
And fly to congo
Where no ant would feel their scents
To burry national milk into their throat
They would go hide in lions belly
Peeling off national flesh
And smile out with the bones
That the bonny masses would crush.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem